Slytherin Crushes
by bennyslegs
Summary: Sherlock's working a case at Hogwarts - But nevermind that, Draco's interested in the important stuff.


"You _fancy_ him." Sherlock choked on the pumpkin juice he'd been drinking, but quickly righted himself, placing his goblet down. (goblets? but why? Sherlock missed the teacups)

"That's none of your business. What was your name again? I think I've deleted it, it was so ridiculous sounding. Actually, don't bother telling me. I'll delete it again. This is disgusting, by the way. I'll never understand why you wizards need to drink and eat such odd things." He shot a filthy look at the blonde beside him, who shot a filthier one back (Sherlock was impressed, but he wouldn't admit it. He'd started young perfecting his dirty looks to make Mycroft feel awful, but this wizard was better at them than even he was.)

"Draco Malfoy, you sod. You'll do well to remember it, I'm important around here. You do fancy him, you haven't stopped looking at him." John was sat at the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter beside him, a group of girls laughing around them. He must have told Harry something funny, Sherlock thought. He wished he'd heard it. He wanted to be laughing instead of Harry. He suddenly felt wretched, and felt a tantrum coming on.

Looking back to Draco, (how stupid) he quickly looked him over, deducing as fast as possible. "Spoilt, only child. Raised with gifts and not love, so you cherish presents but are uncomfortable if anyone approaches you in a friendly way. No real friends. just followers," and now, in a whisper, because Sherlock was polite sometimes, even when he was being cruel, "And very much gay. Haven't come out yet I suspect, good luck with that. You can talk about crushes, you've had a thing for Harry Potter for months. You've obviously got a thing for power, and he's definitely powerful. But you haven't the balls to even talk to him, he probably denied your friendship once, am I right? Of course I'm right. Pathetic really."

Draco looked stunned, his grey eyes as wide as saucers. And this was a muggle? Apparently, Dumbledore had said they were only visiting Hogwarts, (for a case, or so was said, Draco had no idea) and apparently Dumbledore had thought it was a good idea to sort them by their personality, and place them in the corresponding houses. Despite the fact they were at-least 10 years older than the eldest students, (Draco guessed, the Gryffindor muggle looked much older), and he wondered bitterly why they couldn't just sit with the teachers. To help pureblood wizards students get to know muggles, or some such rubbish. Frankly Draco thought it was disgusting, Dumbledore really was taking the piss out of Hogwarts and it's traditions. But this muggle was interesting, at least. To know all that about Draco from a look? He hadn't even used legilimency. How else would he know those things?

"Gay" scoffed Draco, "Yeah, okay. As if you'd know that just by looking at me. Unless it's because _you're_ gay, and you know someone's gay when you see them. I bet you are, aren't you? Staring over at your Jim,-" "John!" interrupted Sherlock, angrily "- looking at him like a lovesick hippogriff. Does he not want you? He's straight, isn't he? Look at him, putting on a right show for those girls. And you'd think with your feminine hair, he'd be interested, but clearly not…"

Sherlock had held his tongue before, but now this weird, young pointy looking wizard had really done it. Sherlock knew his weakness, knew the instant he'd seen him. Time to use his trump card.

"…You're balding, did you know? Starting slowly of course, but by the time you're 25 you'll definitely be mostly bald. I hope you wizards have a hair re-growth potion because that is going to be ugly…" The colour left Draco's already pale face. His hands instinctively flew to his hair, which he petted anxiously.  
"You… you wouldn't know that, that's … cruel …" Draco got up, abandoned his half-eaten breakfast and stormed out. Sherlock smirked to himself. No, it wasn't true. But it was worth it. He looked up to the Gryffindor table to see that the girls had left, and everyone was back to their breakfasts, but John. He was looking over at Sherlock, obviously because of the commotion Draco had made by storming out. John smiled and waved, then went back to his own breakfast. Sherlock suddenly felt hungry.


End file.
